People laugh and I laugh too.
Because we live in an age where such questions are avoided.
I ask my grandmother playfully.
“What should I do?”
Grandma answers with an excited voice.
“I really hope the writer gets married.
And have a child.
How much would life change then? How many more stories would emerge then? For me.
“I want to listen to the author’s ever-changing story for a long time.”
People are still laughing, but my eyes are welling up with tears.
Even as I pondered how daunting it must be to get married and become a mother in this precipice-like world, I was so grateful that someone wanted to listen to my story for so long.

Neither my grandmother nor I know what the next story will be.
A wind blows from somewhere, and my grandmother's white hair and my black hair flutter at the same time.
I can also hear the sound of buildings collapsing.
I stand on stage and see my life branching out in dozens of directions.
Among them, only one life can be lived.
I return home smelling the scent of flowers that my grandmother had inhaled.

---From the "Prologue"

It was a very large container building with yellow flooring.
I didn't expect you to take off your shoes.
I came wearing really nice shoes, but I had no choice but to take them off.
I stepped in there, exposing my black socks, and Chanhee's red socks.
(…) Only then did I have an intuition.
Of the three hundred warriors, perhaps less than ten have read my book.
There are very few bibliophiles here who love me.
My officer friend emailed me that many soldiers in the Red Dragon Unit had read my book, so I readily agreed to give the lecture, but the definition of "many" can vary from person to person.
From now on, I had to speak and sing in front of two hundred and ninety people who had no interest in me.
Can one become a person who is not shabby even on a shabby stage?

After finishing the mic test, I stepped down on the creaking boards and went outside with Chanhee to have a cigarette.
Chanhee muttered calmly.
“Sister.
“It’s fucked up?”
---From "Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere, but foolish girls go to military bases to give lectures."

In Marquez's novel One Hundred Years of Solitude, people live their lives repeating similar mistakes.
Because of that mistake, some loneliness is repeated.
The descendants of later generations also experience loneliness similar to that of their ancestors.
But in my fantasy, talent looms larger than solitude.
With magical skill and ghostly dexterity, we cross several generations and connect.
As I sing and write while simultaneously embracing my mother, my mother's father, and that father's mother, I feel something repeating itself.
Actually, I feel like it started a long time ago.
I feel like my body is just a conduit for my talents to flow through.
I feel like that alone is enough.

It started as an old story, but it's already gotten this close.
For Mr. Sunnam, a hundred years may seem like a fleeting moment.
I am constantly wishing for and letting go of things, trying to become an older version of myself.
---From "Grand Daughter"

Our little life, which we cried together at our grandfather's house, has come to this point.
All I can say is, go further, go as far as you want to go.
We can't tell whether writing and making music brings joy or sorrow.
Just as we can't tell whether life is joy or sorrow.
All we know is that the desire to do well never goes away.
Just as the desire to live never disappears.
---From "When I See You Who Resembles Me Most"

If young people ask, I will tell them.
There used to be something called a butterfly.
There was also something called a bee.
I was able to go swimming in the sea.
Fall was like fall, winter was like winter, spring was like spring, and summer… … summer was so summer-like.
One of us might have tears in our eyes as we say that.

In a world where spring and fall have almost disappeared, a friend will tell me:
You were very young back then.
Then I tell my friend:
It's not that I was young, it's that I was young.
The friend nods.
Yes, actually we are still young.
Then I'll agree.
We're all children forever.
Even then, I couldn't tell if the sky was the color of the sea or if the sea was the color of the sky.
---From "After August"

Things learned through pain are not easily forgotten.
Lessons learned from the death of the wolf and the cat.
This learning makes me look up and see you.
You, the special brother of animals.
You are strong and weak.
You are full of flaws.
You who will never last forever… … You who are so finite, I must love you while I can.
Even if it hurts later, you have to do your best now.

That's the best version of myself I want to be.
I want to live my life as if I knew that pain and joy are one, as if I were dancing over the sound of rain and thunder, as if I were planting new flowers on a grave.
---From "I Discover the Best of Me in Him"

“I’ll tell you a sentence that my writing teacher, Anyin, wrote when he was a college student.
I don't remember exactly, but it was something like this."

Confucius, Mencius, Laozi, Zhuangzi, Mozi… …
Mija, Okja, Hyeja, Sunja, Heeja… …

Hyun smiled because he immediately recognized the courage of this poem.
How wonderful it is to have the names of grandmothers placed alongside the history written only of male sages.
---From "Newcomers"

The story of survival is endless.
Older women often reminisce about the past.
It was a life where after one hardship, there was another hardship.
Among them, some older sisters say this.
But it was a life that ended well.
When I hear that older sister's words, I feel so encouraged that I just laugh.

I hope I can be someone who can joke like this even in the midst of hardship.
“Oh, it’s the best?” I want to say this even on my deathbed.
“It was truly a life well lived.” If only I had the good fortune to know in advance that that day would be my death.
I don't know how long life will last, but I hope to survive as long as possible as a full-time writer, not as an email agent, deadline manager, or yoga instructor.

---From "A Life That Ends"